


Fearless and Fun

by doctor_bitchcraftt



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_bitchcraftt/pseuds/doctor_bitchcraftt
Summary: Bianca describes Adore as fearless and fun, but sometimes what she needs most is to feel safe and loved.Chapter One: DTF, the remixChapter Two: I'm From AzusaChapter Three: Lost My CrownChapter Four: I Can’t Love You





	1. DTF, the remix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t leave Adore alone in the club with the gossipers in chapter one of DTF. If Bianca was there, things would have happened differently.

>   _“If you say the wrong thing, I’ll go and tell Bianca to yell at you.”_

Adore was an expert on being oblivious, but she’d always been able to pick up on what others were feeling.  So when she heard voices behind her at the club after a gig and her shoulder blades tightened up with a cold shiver, she knew it wasn’t the air conditioning.

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the bathroom and to pick up more drinks, but she’d gotten trapped between a bunch of stools and a couple making out against the bar.  She resisted the urge to clap a hand protectively across the back of her neck, mostly to avoid dropping Bianca's wine.  Instead, she edged closer to the wall on her left and yanked her hood up to avoid recognition, happy that her drag blended in with the other club goers.

”Heard she’ll fuck anything that offers.”

”Yeah?  Fucking filthy bitch, bet she’s like a walking disease magnet.”

“Did you hear her earlier? She said she doesn’t do relationships, but I bet it’s because she’s too disgusting to keep.  That’s why she’s always fan-fucking, they’re too busy licking her ass to care.”

Adore rolled her eyes at the unoriginal insults.  She was about to turn around and tell the bitches behind her (local queens by the sound of it) where they could shove their bullshit, but the next words made her freeze.

“What I can’t figure out is why Bianca lets her hang around.  That cunt is way too talented to let a loser drag her down.”

”Bet she feels sorry for her slutty ass.”  The statement was accompanied by nasty laughter.

”They’re not fucking, that’s for sure.  Delano’s too busy getting plowed by tweakers next to a dumpster to suck her dick.”

“Maybe the sadistic cunt enjoys getting a laugh watching that train wreck.”

The words burned through the alcohol in her system, barbs shot through her chest propelled by sheer malice.  When she’s sober, Adore has no doubts about the solid sincerity of their relationship, but right then she felt sick to her stomach.  Hadn’t she wondered time and time again why Bianca was so kind and generous? 

She didn’t move until the voices drifted off in the direction of the dance floor.  Her feet carried her back across the club on automatic, unable to see anything but blurry shapes through the tears stinging in her eyes.

A familiar cackle of laughter cut through the ringing that had taken over her ears, and Adore didn’t stop until she was pressed right up to Bianca’s sequined side.  She knew Alaska and the others around the table were staring, but none of it seemed important.  Bianca swayed a little in her heels with the impact, loose limbs and sloppiness beginning to show in her normally precise movement.

”Whoa, careful or you’re gonna make me break a hip!”  Her arm came around Adore’s waist, and that was all it took to break the dam holding back her tears.

Bianca waved the other girls off, turning Adore to face her.  “Hey, hey.  What’s this?”  

“Is there something wrong with me?”

The grip she had on Adore’s arms was slightly unsteady, but Bianca’s focus snapped to attention.

"I heard them, when I left the bathroom,” Adore blurted out past the tears streaming down.  "They said I'd fuck anyone, which is true, but like also that must be why no one could love me because I'm too dirty." Hearing her own voice repeat it made it far too real, and the hateful laughter echoed in her mind.

Bianca had gone completely still, but Adore couldn’t stop. "They also said you only hang out with me because you feel sorry for my slutty ass.  Like I know that's not true, but why do they have to say that stuff?"  

Despite jokingly referring to herself as Hurricane Bianca, even her nastiest reads were never delivered with real temper.  Adore herself was prone to intense emotional storms, but Bianca was always steady and calming.  From her thunderous expression now though, anger was rising like a force of nature.

”Adore.”  Bianca’s voice was too calm and far too controlled.  “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she sniffled, “it’s dumb, sorry.”

So carefully it made the ice in her chest finally begin to thaw, Bianca curved her fingers around Adore’s jaw.  

“It matters.  Talk to me.”  Behind the blue contacts, Bianca’s eyes were unreadable.

Her glance flicked over to the hallway past the bar leading towards the bathrooms and storage, and where the queens were watching them with complete disdain.  Bianca followed her look, and took half a step in their direction.  She could smell the Fireball on Bianca’s breath, and abruptly Adore realized that causing a scene in the club might only make the situation worse.  

“Just leave it, I’m pathetic for not being able to handle my own shit.”

Pressing her painted lips together, Bianca very gently shook herself free from Adore’s restraining grip before pivoting and stalking off across the dance floor, skirt hiked up in both hands.

Adore hesitated just long enough that she lost sight of Bianca in the crowd, wig and all.  She shook her head to Jinkx and Alaska’s questions, gaze locked on the opposite hallway.

It was clear when Bianca reached the queens, because they all took a collective step backwards.  She was dimly aware of Jinkx’s hand on her elbow, but none of what she was saying filtered through.

What felt like hours later, Bianca returned to the table.  Alaska and Jinkx didn’t bother to hide their interest as she sat back down and reclaimed Adore’s personal space.

”B?” 

“What just happened, Bianca?”

Adore saw Bianca’s jaw tighten, but her voice was calm.  “Someone was bothering Adore.”

”...and?” Jinkx pressed impatiently.

Bianca’s smile was sharp, contrasting the way she squeezed Adore’s hand.

”They’re feeling very attacked right now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I write a future chapter with what exactly Bianca told those shady queens?


	2. I'm From Azusa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one place Adore can think of to go after an argument with her mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purely hypothetical argument (although Adore has called out "fans" in the past for spreading rumors about her/bothering her mom).

Adore is aware of the driver eyeing her every time he glances in the rear view mirror, but she couldn't care less.  She knows she looks a complete mess - red eyes and flushed face, wearing a hoodie too light for the unusual Southern California chill with her phone clutched tight to her chest.  Thankfully, he keeps his mouth shut, and silently passes back a box of Kleenex.

She ought to have stayed and stayed calm, but it was too much tonight.  After the shouting and denials and running out of the house, all she could think to do was order an Uber and give them the address of the one place she knew she was always welcome, no questions asked.

********

A large book on fashion history open in her lap, Bianca contemplates the remainder of her evening.  There's no less than four messages from friends on her phone, inviting her out to dance or late dinner.  She's got some time off between legs of her tour, and spending the night at home with the dogs and a new book feels like the right thing to do.  

Half an hour later, Bianca is at her worktable sketching out a sleeve design inspired by her reading when she hears her phone going off on the coffee table.  She finishes the shapes with a few quick pencil lines before heading back into the living room.  The phone stops buzzing just before she reaches it.

There's a missed call from Adore, which is rather surprising.  She's supposed to be spending a few days with her mom, and Bianca hadn't expected to hear anything from her until tomorrow morning at the earliest.  

Smiling, Bianca settles back on the couch and hits redial.  It connects on the first ring, but the fond greeting dies on her lips.

"B...?"  Her voice is shaky, and road noise fills the background.

"Adore."  She sits straight up. "Queen, what's wrong?"

Adore's breathing keeps hitching like she's trying to hold back tears.  "Can I come over?"

Bianca is already moving to the front door, flicking on the porch light.  "Of course, but I thought you were in Azusa until Monday?"      

Silence, broken only by the sound of sniffling.

"...okay, we'll talk when you get here.  How long?"

Adore's voice murmurs the question away from the phone, and Bianca can hear the sound of someone else talking but not the words.  

"Twenty minutes."

********

She's abandoned the book on the table and regretfully closed Dede and Sammy in their play area, out of the way of her pacing.  Bianca thinks about texting Bonnie to find out if she knows what's going on, but decides to wait.  The last thing Adore might need tonight was questions from her mother and Bianca both.  

The sound of a car outside and footsteps catch her attention, and she's at the door in seconds, catching Adore in a hug.  Stepping backwards, she pulls her into the house and waits for the front door to close before speaking.

"What do you need?  Water?" She can feel the negative headshake, and tries again.  "Need me to call your mom?"

Adore stiffens, and she leans back in alarm.  She wasn't kidding on season six when she described her mother as her best friend...Bianca feels a tight knot of fear in her stomach.

"Adore, did something happen to Bonnie?"

Bianca isn't expecting the bitter laugh in response.  "No, she's fine, I guess.  We fought.  I didn't know where to go, but here."

She doesn't point out the fact that Adore's own apartment is less than ten minutes away.  "Of course, but I could have come out there if you needed me."

Another headshake.  They've made it to the couch, Adore pressing herself into the corner. 

"Can you tell me what happened?"  Bianca still isn't sure that she shouldn't call Bonnie to figure this out, but that can wait.  She uses her sleeve to dry some of the tears dripping off Adore's chin.

"Remember that Insta live I did last week after we went out?  Where I was super drunk?"

"Which time?" Bianca teases gently.  There's been a few occasions recently, but none stand out in her memory as something that could cause this.

That brings the ghost of a smile.  "Someone found mom in Facebook and messaged her."

Bianca frowns.  Bonnie knows Adore is living the party girl fantasy, can't imagine why she would be bothered by her drinking.

"They told her I was messed up on crack or meth or whatever.  She flipped out when I got home tonight.  Said I'd end up like..."  _Like my dad,_ hangs unspoken in the air between them.  

"What the fuck?"  Bianca knows she's being too loud, but, "You don't do that shit, she should have told whoever it was to fuck off."

Adore turns her eyes up towards the ceiling, blinking rapidly.  "Yeah, you'd think.  I told her, but we fought.  And I left."

That's something Adore and Bonnie are going to have to figure out; there's not much Bianca can do to fix that, much as she wishes otherwise.  The storm of tears seems to have passed at least, and she sags against her shoulder.  Adore is half in her lap and Bianca starts to shift her back towards the cushions, stopping at the wordless noise of distress.

"Queen, I'll be right back.  Just going to get some water."

A headshake.  " 'M okay."

She sighs.  "All right.  Going to be dehydrated later though."

"Don't care."

"You'll care later," Bianca tries one more time, feeling Adore's arms tighten around her waist, face pressed against her chest.  "Okay."

They sit in silence, broken only by concerned whines from the dogs and Adore's occasional hiccups.  When she can feel Adore starting to slouch, Bianca shakes her gently.  

"Let's get you to bed."

"Stay."  Adore sounds sleepy but determined.  "Don't wanna be alone."

Bianca rolls her eyes.  "I wasn't going to make you sleep by yourself.  Come on, you can even have all of the pillows."  For a purported mermaid, Adore is surprisingly solid and doesn't budge.  Leaning to the side, she ignores the whine of protest.

"I'm grabbing a blanket, some of us get cold," she murmurs and Adore loosens her grip just enough that she can reach the throw behind her.  Settling back, she covers them both and briefly considers trying to get up long enough to turn off the lights but rapidly dismisses the idea.  Her leg is going to sleep and she's fairly sure her back is going to be cramped in the morning, but if Adore wants them to stay there, then that's a done deal. 

She runs her fingers though the messy hair, waiting until Adore's breathing evens out in exhausted sleep.  Bianca picks up her phone again, and starts clearing her backlog of email.  They'll figure it out in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep writing Adore in tears, and I promise there's more to her stories than just angst.


	3. Lost My Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-All Stars 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece to Chapter Six of "Pillow Talk, Global Edition". Short, but sweet.

(Read PillowTalk, Global Edition: All Stars Aftermath [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495690/chapters/41253419) for the phone call)

 

Three and a half weeks after that 2 am phone call, Bianca stumbled in the door with three suitcases and what felt like a full zip code worth of bags under her eyes.  Jamie saw her in, giving her a pointed look when she waved him off. Too tired to roll her eyes, Bianca lifted a half-hearted middle finger before hugging and wishing him a goodnight.

Tossing her travel pillow onto the couch, she sighed as the sound of her neck cracking echoed through the living room.  The urge to unpack was quickly discarded when she caught sight of the Misfits t-shirt slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and a little of the weariness melted away.

Bianca gave the guest room a perfunctory check before heading the other way down the hall.  The bedroom door was half open, flickering light from the muted television revealing at least a partial attempt at keeping the clothes on the floor contained in one pile.

Stepping inside, she turned off the TV and regarded the scene in front of her with a soft smile.

Burrowed beneath the covers - untucked, messy, and half off the mattress - Adore slept wrapped around a pillow on Bianca's side of the bed.  She watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing, taking in several days' worth of stubble in contrast with the non-existent smell of weed and lack of fast food wrappers.  Adore might be in the middle of a slump, but the fact that she had apparently continued to respect Bianca's domestic preferences (no smoking inside, and absolutely no food in the bed) meant that she wasn't lying about being okay.

A significant amount of worry lifted, Bianca dropped a kiss on her forehead and headed into the bathroom for a long-desired shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged with skin scrubbed clean and feeling much more like Roy than a jetlagged drag queen.  Checking that Adore was still asleep, she dragged her suitcases into the sewing room and started the unpacking process. 

Years of experience fit Bianca Del Rio into a surprisingly compact space when traveling (she credited not having to pack elaborately styled wigs), and by now she could go through the motions half-asleep and with her eyes mostly closed.  Wig sections were stacked on the kitchen counter next to a bottle of liquid soap to be washed the next day, the same with her gowns on top of the washer, folded into individual lingerie bags.  Shoes rejoined the other dozen pairs of platform heels arrayed on the back of the closet door, and the numerous pairs of tights went straight into the laundry basket.    

By the time her suitcases were mostly empty again, Bianca was more than ready to pass out for a solid ten hours.  She made a final pass through the kitchen, tossing a half-eaten sandwich and empty fry box - she would have been concerned if Adore wasn't leaving a mess somewhere - and switching off the lights behind herself.

Back in the bedroom, Adore was surprisingly awake.

"You're back!" She launched herself at Bianca with a hug that nearly knocked her off of her feet.

"Whoa, careful.  I'm old, remember?"  Bianca stepped back, gently holding Adore at arms' length.  "You're okay," she murmured. 

It wasn't really a question, but Adore nodded anyway.  "Yeah.  I think I am."

Anything Bianca intended to say next was interrupted by a jaw-splitting yawn.  Sighing, she dropped to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Talk tomorrow?"  

"Yeah.  Can we get breakfast?"  Adore was already climbing back underneath the covers, straightening them as much as possible. 

"Brunch," Bianca groaned, checking the time.  "Lunch.  Don't wake me up before eleven."

"Okay."  

"And move.  That's my side of the bed."

Adore made a show of pouting but readily shifted, snuggling against Bianca's side as soon as she laid down.

"I'm glad you're back."  Her quiet voice split the silence after the covers settled.

Bianca pressed her cheek to Adore's for a long moment. 

"Me too."      


	4. I Can’t Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics at the bottom from Adore’s tweets on December 4, 2018

"Hey B, can I ask you something?"  Adore's question came from the other side of the couch and took a moment to register with Bianca as different from her nonsensical chatter to Sammy and Dede.

"Sure." 

"How long does it take to get over someone?"

Quietly, Bianca closed the book in her lap and rearranged herself to lean over the back of the couch.  Adore was still sitting cross-legged on the floor with Dede in her lap and an unusually pensive expression.

"Depends on who and how long and how the breakup happened."  It wasn't a deliberate attempt to avoid the question, although her brain tossed out at least four ways to change the subject ranging from subtle to blatant.

"It's..." Adore drew in a slow breath, staring down at the sleeping dog as if the answer would be apparent there.  She shrugged.  "Nevermind, forget about it."

Pressing Adore for an answer would likely result in her actively diverting the conversation, so Bianca turned back towards the coffee table and re-opened the book with a noncommittal noise of agreement.  While her hands turned the pages on automatic, her mind spun into overdrive trying to fit together the non-sequitur.  

A few minutes later, Adore set Dede on her bed and stepped over the gate to come around the couch.  She didn't plant herself next to where Bianca was pretending to read, casually invade her personal space, or mention being hungry, which would have been expected.  Instead, she wandered over to the windows, leaning on the glass and drumming her fingers to the beat of an unheard song.

Bianca was used to quicksilver changes in mood and conversation, but experience meant she knew Adore usually spoke whatever was on her mind.  Especially between the two of them (or four, counting the C and D of season six).  Generally speaking, she would be more than happy to drop a subject when Adore's train of thought derailed (or changed to a completely non-parallel track).  Right then though, something about the way she was fidgeting suggested that there was more to it than a passing half-idea.  As far as Bianca knew there hadn't been any changes in Adore's relationship status, so it probably wasn't anything recent.  And if it wasn't recent, she wasn't sure what part of lunch out and playing with the dogs might have brought it up to begin with.

She watched Adore’s lips move, silently speaking.  Unfortunately, Bianca was at the wrong angle to even try to decipher what she might be saying.  With a sigh, she gave up all pretense of reading, setting the book aside and joining Adore at the window.

“[Sometimes I wanna erase everything.](https://twitter.com/adoredelano/status/1092376739248926721?s=21)”  

The quiet statement hung in the air between one breath and the next, and Bianca found herself at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

“...talk to me?”

Adore shook her head, but nonetheless turned away from the window to face her fully.  

“Nothing.  Just...been writing, and some stuff keeps coming up.  Like the same old shit that you just want to get over or past or whatever, but it keeps following you?”

“Yeah.  It does.”   

Bianca understood far too well.  She might be almost a decade and a half older, but she wasn’t immune to it either.  Part of her knew that the nonstop work was a way to deflect and distract, taking refuge in her safe place - on the stage.

“Sometimes I want to unfeel something, you know?”  

“Yeah,” Bianca repeated, “I do.”

********

The remainder of the daylight slipped away between them in silence, Adore lost in thought and Bianca ostensibly on her phone, although she couldn’t keep herself from looking up every time Adore shifted.  Silence between them was usually a comfortable thing, and she did her best to respect it this time.  

They ordered in Thai for dinner, and after cleaning up the empty boxes Bianca finally gave in to the urge to address the elephant in the room (Darienne jokes aside).  

“Talk to me, pussyface?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile something Adore was trying to manage.

“Still not over him.”  Adore sounded equal parts defeated and frustrated.  “It’s fucking with my brain today.”

Bianca didn’t insult their friendship by pretending not to know exactly who and what she was referring to.

”There’s no time limit on it.”  

Scooting closer, she wrapped an arm around Adore’s shoulders where she was laid out on the chaise.  

Behind the devil-may-care exterior, Adore felt things even more deeply than it appeared on the surface.  That same vulnerability that hypnotized audiences when she was on stage translated into an equally deep capacity for hurt.

“It makes great lyrics, but every time I think I’ve written it out of me, it’s still there.  I’m tired of it, B.”  Adore reached up to entwine their fingers, seemingly engrossed in examining the chipped black nail polish.

“Like I’m so lucky to wake up every day into doing this life.  This is what I want to do, and I hate that that isn’t enough.  It feels so fucking ungrateful.”

“It’s not you being ungrateful, it’s what you’re feeling.“ Bianca sighed and rested her cheek against the top of Adore’s head.  “I’m not gonna give you some bullshit line about learning and moving on, because you’re not that dumb.

“Anyone who tells you that you can control what you’re feeling is a liar.  And,” she added, “I can tell you that you can’t drink it away.  Still there when you’re sober.”

”I don’t want to love him anymore.”

Bianca squeezed her hand.  

“I know.”

********

The dogs were long since asleep when Bianca checked the time.  

“Sleepy yet?”  

Adore didn’t look particularly tired, but it was a fair question.  They’d gone through a decent amount of vodka, although not enough that Bianca was concerned with her ability to navigate down the block only half awake.

“Can I stay?”  The echo of the oft-used phrase when traveling together brought the smallest ghost of a smile.

”Course you can.  M’tired though.”

Nodding, Adore released her hand and Bianca stood, feeling her back protest at the hours spent slouched.

After checking that the alarm was set and brushing her teeth (she’d heard Adore using mouthwash in the other bathroom), Bianca wasn’t surprised to find her already in bed. 

She settled under the covers and switched off the light, patiently waiting for Adore to decide if she needed the comfort of touch or just wanted to share the covers.

”Thank you.”  Adore’s voice came from a foot away on the pillow.

”Hmmmm?” 

“For you know.  Not telling me I’m stupid.”

“Bitch.  Of course you’re a stupid queen sometimes.  Just not about this.”

“And not being weird about this.” The glow of the phone screen illuminated Adore’s quirked lips.  “I’m gonna stay up a bit.”

Bianca hmmm’d in agreement, then turned on her side to face her, confused. “Weird about what?”

“This.”  Adore made gesture with her free hand that looked like a cross between a one-arm shrug and pointing down at the duvet.  “You know, not being judgy and stuff.”

” ‘Stuff’?”  She wasn’t usually the one late to the party in catching on.

“Like if I posted where we are, people would freak out about it.”

”...in L.A.?”

Adore set her phone down on the bed.  “You.  Me.  Bed together.”

Bianca was really beginning to feel like Adore was having a different conversation.  “We share all the time?  Who gives a fuck about it?”

”You know.  The fans and stuff.”

Rolling the rest of the way over, she lifted her head off the pillow just enough to squint in Adore’s direction.  “I’m not explaining anything to a bunch of idiots on social media.  None of their business anyway.”

Adore was silent long enough that Bianca wondered if she’d fallen asleep.  Then, “Love you.”

”I love you too,” she mumbled into the pillow. “And don’t post anything if I don’t have a shirt on.”

 

_I don’t think that I ever got over you_

_How many guys do I have to break in order to?_

_We hear the best way to get over is to under, but you’re the cloud crashing loud in this London thunder_

_Now my eyes match these December skies_

_I’ll be fine, It takes time, You we’re mine_

_In my head I cant stand in your truth_

_I’m wasting all my 20’s still loving you_

Lyrics from Adore’s tweets [here](https://twitter.com/adoredelano/status/1070114301170585601?s=21) and [here](https://twitter.com/adoredelano/status/1070116271197433861?s=21)

 


End file.
